


Can't Let This Moment End

by ladybonehollows



Category: Tales from Verania - T.J. Klune
Genre: Dancing, M/M, Mutual Pining, The Lightning-Struck Heart
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-02-26
Updated: 2020-02-26
Packaged: 2021-02-28 00:55:49
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,963
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22915096
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ladybonehollows/pseuds/ladybonehollows
Summary: Sam and Ryan dance and dance anddance. Ryan's POV of the rest of that night. Featuring awkward boys and mutual pining.
Relationships: Sam Haversford/Ryan Foxheart
Comments: 1
Kudos: 19





	Can't Let This Moment End

**Author's Note:**

> There is no plot to this, just an excuse to write some pining Ryan. Unbeta'd, because I'm still trying to get my usual betas to read the books XD

_ I don’t want to have any regrets, _ Sam had said.

Ryan didn’t want to have regrets, either.

Sam’s fingers were warm, his hand steady on his shoulder, his eyes wide and laughing and barely looking away. It didn’t matter what the future would bring for them. He would never regret this.

It was dangerous. Holding him like this, pretending that this could be something that he could keep. That things could be like this always. That the brilliant smile Sam directed toward him was something that belonged to him.

At the end of that road lay only a broken heart.

_ One more song _ , he promised himself. They’d already danced for several. What did they look like to anyone watching them? Was it his imagination, or were they dancing closer than when they’d started? He wasn't going to draw attention to it. If Sam noticed, let him think that it was unintentional, that it didn't mean anything, that Ryan wasn't hyper aware of every place their bodies touched.

The music shifted seamlessly from one song to another without a pause, and — well. Okay. That hardly counted as a new song, right?

Sam’s hand flexed slightly in his, tightening just a little, and Ryan couldn’t let it go.

There was a flush creeping up his neck, and he couldn’t tell if it was from the drink or the dancing. Ryan felt warm too, over every inch of his skin, and deep in his chest. His arms ached with the need to pull Sam tightly against him, to feel their bodies pressed together as they moved to the music.

It would be so easy to give into it. Sam had been the undercurrent of Ryan’s thoughts for the last five years, a steady thrum of longing that he’d never been able to smother, no matter how hard he’d tried. No matter how much he’d thrown himself into his relationship with Justin, how much he’d tried to focus on the deal that they’d made, the oath that he’d made to his prince. They’d become friends, but it would never be anything more for him.

It would be so much easier if he could give Justin his heart. It was a pity that his heart hadn’t been his to give away for a long time.

He was so close, the tension between them thick. Surely it wasn’t all in his head? Surely Sam could feel it too. He  _ had  _ to hear the hammering of his heart, see the want in his eyes, see the way they dropped and lingers on Sam’s lips, his —

Oh, his  _ lips _ . Full and curved and red and smiling and —

Ryan licked his lips, aching to know what Sam's tasted like.

When he raised his eyes to Sam’s again, something flashed across his face, something that tugged at Ryan’s heart and  _ demanded _ he pull him closer. But before he could give into the instinct and ruin everything, Sam fell into his arms.

And not in a graceful, swooning kind of way.

There was nothing to trip on except their own feet, but one moment they were dancing and the next Sam was letting out a high-pitched yelp as he stumbled forward. Ryan tightened his grip, holding him up, and it wasn’t until he stiffened in his arms that he realised that they  _ were _ flush against each other now. Sam’s chest was pressed against his, his face against his shoulder, the fingers of one hand squeezing Ryan’s tightly while the other clung to his bicep.

The room seemed to slow down around them. Sam inhaled sharply, his breath hitching. Ryan turned his head, his cheek brushing Sam’s hair, and  _ oh _ .

And then he was gone. Ryan opened his eyes — when had he closed his eyes? — and found Sam standing in front of him, his face bright red. He was still within reach, if Ryan would reach out to him. “I’m going to get a drink,” Sam announced.

Ryan dropped his hand quickly. “But the song’s not over,” he blurted out, and immediately wished he could call the words back. This was good. Stopping was good, what with the whole potential broken heart thing.

Except there wasn’t really any ‘potential’ about it anymore, was there? His chest felt tight just from that quick, accidental contact, and he could already feel the cracks forming from the knowledge that it wasn't something he could have again.

“What?” Sam said, his eyebrows shooting up in surprise.

“You can’t stop dancing until the song’s over,” Ryan said, heat spreading across his cheeks.

“Oh,” Sam said, leaning forward slightly, and then, “Oh,” when the music came to a stop.

_ Fuck you _ , he thought at the bard.

“I guess we can stop then,” he said, feeling more and more like an idiot with every passing second. “There’s no reason to —”

“No, no reason to —” Sam agreed.

“Unless you want to —”

“We could…”

The music started up again, a slower tune that had the other people on the dancefloor pulling each other closer. Ryan stood frozen, watching Sam, while Sam just stood there and watched Ryan.

“Drink!” Sam all but shouted, and then flinched when everyone glanced in their direction. Ryan felt a nauseating blend of relief and wretchedness when he took half a step back. “I’m getting a drink. Do you want a drink? No? That’s probably good, actually,” he said, backing up further, “since you’ve got that whole knightly schtick going on. Not that it’s a schtick. Or that knights can’t drink. Or that — Gary? I think I heard Gary calling my name.” He took another step, and then spun around when he bumped into a dancing couple. “Sorry, sorry. Wow, I love your shoes. Gary!”

Ryan watched him go, fighting the urge to go after him. There was nothing to say knights couldn't drink, as long as they were off duty. They could drink, and talk, and laugh, and Ryan could fall a little bit more in lo—

_ No _ . He couldn’t.

Except he already was.

One hundred percent in love with Sam Haversford.

And sworn to marry the Prince of Verania. Those two things weren’t compatible, not even a little bit.

And what did it matter anyway? Sam wouldn’t want him back. Of course he wouldn’t. He was Sam of Wilds, apprentice to the King’s Wizard, one of the most powerful people that Verania had ever known. He could have anyone he wanted. People were practically  _ throwing  _ themselves at him constantly. Why would Sam want him when he could have literally anyone?

He wouldn’t. Which was probably why he’d jumped out of his arms so abruptly.

But then Sam glanced over his shoulder at him, and he could have sworn that the smile playing around his lips was almost  _ shy _ .

Ryan blinked, and Sam was gone, the mysterious smile along with it.

When he realised that he was standing in the middle of the dance floor as the world moved on around him, Ryan hurried out of the way. He had to get this under control before he returned home. Not only were his feelings falling all over the place, but now he was imagining soft, nervous smiles on Sam’s face.

He was pretty sure that his pining heart could be seen from miles away. His Prince deserved better than that. He couldn’t give him his heart, but he could give him the respect of not letting the whole castle believe that his husband was in love with someone else.

Probably. Hopefully.

He caught sight of Sam on the other side of the room, listening to Gary speak. As he watched, Sam rolled his eyes so strongly that his whole body moved with it, before pushing his head away. Gary snapped his teeth at his hand playfully, and Sam grinned widely.

Ryan didn’t stand a chance.

And if he found Tiggy by the bar and told him that he was going up to bed instead of approaching Sam and Gary, then he most definitely wasn’t running away.

There were two narrow beds, so close that when he undressed to his underclothes and slipped under the blankets, he could reach out and brush his fingers against the other bed. Instead, he lay on his back and stared up at the ceiling, pretending that it was the sound of the music downstairs that kept him awake, and not the memory of Sam’s hand curled around his, his head against his shoulder.

He didn’t know how much time had passed before he heard footsteps from the other side of the door, a quiet scuffle, and then the door opening. He wasn’t sure if he’d started to drift off or not, but he was wide awake now. “Shh, shh,  _ shh _ ,” Sam hissed. “Don’t wake him up.”

“Tiggy quiet,” Tiggy said. Loudly.

“Maybe a little quieter,” Gary said.

“This better?” he said, except his whisper somehow ended up being louder than his speaking voice.

“How ‘bout we just stop talking,” Sam said.

There was a small amount of moonlight that peeked through the wooden shutters on the window, but it wasn’t enough to make out more than silhouettes. Ryan closed his eyes again, and listened to the sounds of the three of them stumbling around the room in the dark and then finally falling into bed.

It was less than a minute before the room was filled with gentle snores. Rolling onto his side, Ryan peeked across at them, and held back a laugh at the sight of the three of them piled onto the narrow bed. It couldn’t be comfortable. But Sam looked peaceful with his head resting against Gary’s neck, Tiggy curled up tightly behind him.

He wanted to be a part of it.

He felt like maybe he was, a little.

He wanted more.

They were barely visible in the darkness, but Ryan could make them out enough to see Sam’s eyes blink open. If he could see Sam’s eyes, then he could see his too, but he didn’t close them, or turn away. Sam’s brow pinched, and he lifted his head for a moment before settling back against Gary. “Why’re you ‘wake?” he mumbled.

“You’re serious?” he said, unable to help the smile that tugged at his lips. “After the stampede that just came through the room?”

“Sorry,” he said, but he was smiling. “Go to sleep.”

Silence fell between them. Ryan listened to Gary and Tiggy’s snores. He listened to Sam’s breathing. Just when he thought that he’d fallen asleep, he spoke, his voice quiet in the dark room.

“I like dancing with you.”

The words were slightly slurred, with what Ryan thought was more sleep than drink. He opened his eyes and looked between them once more. Sam’s eyes were closed, that same smile softening his face. Ryan’s heart squeezed in his chest, and when he spoke, it was around a sudden lump in his throat. “Me too,” he breathed.

He didn’t know if Sam heard him or not. He didn’t think it mattered. He didn’t think he would remember.

But he’d remember dancing with him. And despite the fact that it couldn’t go anywhere, that he couldn’t chase what he wanted, that he couldn’t tell Sam how he felt, that he’d never be able to hold him the way his body and his heart craved… Selfishly, he hoped that it pulled at something deep inside him too, that he wanted him back, even if it was just a little.

It was a bittersweet hope.

It was all he had.

He’d feel guilty for it in the morning, when the reality of their lives came crashing back to him. But now, lying in the dark and listening to Sam breathe, he let himself wish that Sam might feel even a fraction of the love that he felt for him.


End file.
